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Guitars and Suicides: Chapter Twelve

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“What’chya doin’?” A voiced echoed right next to my ear piercing through my eardrum as my head was down on the wooden desk. I looked up, well actually, turning to the side where the voice came from, and saw Amelia standing there, bent over so that her head and arms rested on the desk. “It’s time for lunch!” she shouted cheerily, grabbing my arm that was under my head, lifting my glued self off the seat and out of the classroom. Luckily, I grabbed my bag before she could launch me from my chair.
It was a week later, and five weeks left of school. My junior year was ending, so was Mark’s and Amelia’s, but it was Gerard’s last two weeks of school. Graduation took place a week and a half from now, and then he is off to Davis. A great place, Davis was he was going into some sort of architect design for bridges or skyscrapers or something. It has been hard for Ingrid, because Gerard was the one who was with her through her tough times; when her father beat her. There is this whole story on how he attempted a hold up at a bank but was shot by the cops, but I won’t go into detail for that.
I could say they were a couple, kind of, they were always together. Never apart, never kissed though; always hugged, I guess it was a sibling kind of love, but, a relationship kind of love. I may be confusing you, let’s just say they have known each other for a long time. Mark and I were there when we all met, it was a spectacular day. We all knew that the four of us will make it through our high school years together, and our bond has never been broken. They were more like family to me, Mark, Ingrid, Gerard and Amie was starting to become part of my large family too. Amie has met Ingrid and Gerard, but I wonder if they are fond of each other. Hopefully they would be; I do not want friends that hate each other, that would just be conflicting and awkward.
The cafeteria walls were naked, no more posters and signs stuck on the walls which had a million and one viewers. The wall was a wood brown; the school was basically, purely made of wood. New cement walls were improvements to the old wooden walls, which were set in two years ago to the classrooms of the school. The new lunch lady was still there, and Mark and I took a liking to her and her to us. She gave us more Knick-Knacks and Bob-Kicks; that is why the three of us share this bold relationship.
The infamous Antonio Fisting was brought back to Carlson Train High. His father tied some strings and pulled some ribbons and he was out of Juvi. This gave us a scare at first; we even took a glimpse at him. He was buffer, acted tougher, and smoked more. Smoking was basically forbidden in school, him and a few other people were able to manage to bypass the security and hide from the faculty and smoke. He no longer befriended Jake Loying; he had himself a new crew. Jake; however, stuck with him like a loyal good for nothing dog. It seemed sad, and kind of sick that Jake would do that, but I guess its friendship; some sort of friendship.
Everyone was at the table; Mark, Gerard and Ingrid. It was the weekly pot luck and we each had to make something to share. Having another person to the group is such a tremendous asset. Our lunchly comestibles were shared, not calling it just a regular lunch, but now called a feast; we are going to get fat, fast. Mark brought homemade sandwich slices; two sandwich, eight slices (do the math). It was filled with smoked, honey ham with some sort of white cheese surrounded by one hundred percent, pure, wheat. It tasted dry, but delicious. Gerard had in a container some sort of small dish-like pieces with a greenish, yellowish center. It tasted rather excellent, rich, and sweet. Ingrid brought this very tasty guacamole dip and Amie brought her own baked chips. The chips were a little thick, but they were scrumptious. I was bold enough to tell her that minor detail and she punched me in the shoulder. For a girl, it hurt. I mean, since girls who usually have less muscle mass, in this case Amie does have less muscle mass, the pain inflicted by her was a bit shocking for me, because it did hurt. I later found out that it turned into a bruising, when I went to take a shower. But, going back on track, she just said bitterly, “If you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”
“No, I like them. I just wanted to let you know. Uh, never mind,” I cried, massaging my shoulder. I turned and grabbed another slice of the meaty sandwich. Lunch was really quiet after that, there were small talk, but it did not matter to me. Shaney was pregnant. She thought it was the stomach flu and she stayed home for a week, vomiting. Her doctor gave her a pregnancy test and it came positive; however, she wasn’t the only one that was knocked up that pleasurable night. Mark invited me to his house for dinner, to celebrate such a wondrous occasion.
“So, who’s cooking,” I asked.
“You are,” he answered with a wide smile.
“Huh, I shrugged, “I’m there.”
The last class of the day, Mr. Richards called me to his table to stay after for a few minutes. He was always there for me, for about four years. From the beginning of that eighth grade summer school, till now, and the next year too. He taught all grades English, he had some sort of doctor’s degree in English. He was a great man, although, very tough as a teacher. “Has something troubling you, Mr. Collins?” he asked me when I went to his desk. I was very distant in class today, not that I was always, it would seem that he knew something was troubling me. I think every adult has that skill, or maybe it was a gift of only his. But I did not say anything, I didn’t want to. He began, “I saw your father in town today.”
I nodded, verifying his assumptions right. “Yes, he came back,” I murmured.
“Maybe you should try to get to know him more, now that he is here,” he said.
“Why would I want to befriend someone who dwells in the past and abandons everything and everyone he loves?” I asked him.
“Hmm…,” he was very contemplative right now. He rubbed his chin and squeezed the upper part of his nose, clearing his sinuses. “Well, I hope things go the best for you. Give him a change, who knows? Maybe he has changed?”
“You may be right, or incredibly wrong,” I blurted and walked out the classroom. I left the school; Mark was waiting for me at the southern parking lot. That led to his house. We walked a total of five miles that day, the number of buildings began to become less and less the farther we walked on. We finally reached the Super Motel and walked in its alley between it and Erotica Mania. The ally was bright; a couple of families were barbequing steak and chicken on their small cubic grills. Then there was a large fence with spikes on top. Mark unlocked the fence gate and we went into what was called the Trailer Park. These trailers were abnormally huge and bulky; equipped with complete bathrooms, including a shower, kitchen, living room, and bed room.
The dirt road led on for about five more minutes and then we took a turn to the right and saw Mark’s trailer. Two cars were parked there, one from his mom and the other his dad. He had two trailers, one for him and the other for his parents. It seemed pleasant to have somewhat of a house of your own. Dark and musty as it was, the interior was ultimately the cleanest. The small interior was bright and roomy. It seemed much smaller than looking at it outside, it actually looked like a well designed and developed house on wheels. The television was on and Mark’s father was sitting on the recliner; enraptured in his commercial-free boxing tournament.
“Hey dad!” Mark greeted as we crossed the living room to the kitchen.
“Oh, hey, Son!” He said back, not turning his head or eyes at us. I thought having eyes glued to the television was a figure of speech. Mark’s mom was nowhere to be found, she could be out at the neighbors or something; however, that did not stop us from preparing the dinner. Mark fished out the vegetables and steak and he lit the stove grill that they had. I lit the stove next to it and stuck a large pan on it, letting the pan heat up. I cut up the vegetables and poured oil down onto the pan; it started it sizzle. I quickly placed the vegetables in, trying not to splash the boiling oil around. Mark had the steaks on the grill for me and he left to start the homework and call up Amie, who was about four neighbors down.
I found out Amie lived here when she and Mark happened to bump into each other during the weekly trailer park potluck; steak and more steak. She lived with her aunt and she never mentioned her birth parents. She didn’t even mention where she was from or why she transferred to this school so late. Whatever the reason, she was part of the group now -- no going back. However, she did befriend Shaney, the one who threw that party that fateful night.
Mark ran back out to the kitchen. Well, the kitchen was a split room with the living room so it wasn’t much of a running distance so much as a step and then you’re in one place or the other. “Amie’s not coming,” he said.
I turned to him, not knowing the vegetables were about to burn. “Why not?” I interrogated.
“She’s going to Shaney’s house,” he replied back with a sigh.
I looked back, seeing the black broccoli. “Shit!” I cried as I shuffled the vegetables around trying to stop the burning.
What that meant now was that Amie was going to transform into something hideous, vulgar, and insincere. Hanging around Shaney meant the death for a friend of ours.
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